


Like Bonnie & Clyde

by heytheregisela



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, M/M, Mavin, Mentions of Death, RageHappy, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heytheregisela/pseuds/heytheregisela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanted criminal Michael Jones has been captured and is interrogated to confess where his partner is hiding. Although he refuses to give his partner's whereabouts or even his name, Michael will tell his own story, from start to finish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to say that when Michael is telling his story, he’s supposed to be referring to Gavin as something else, but for writing purposes I did not use that code name when writing that part lmao. I just wanted to say this so that it doesn’t confuse anyone. If this was in first person then obviously I would have used the code name, but anyway. Enjoy? haha.

“Where's your partner?”

“I have no idea who you're talking about.”

“Cut the crap, Jones. We know there's someone else involved, we know you two have a hideout and we know he's currently there, and we're still searching for that place. It's also where you're keeping everything you've stolen, isn't it? It's where the money's all at?”

“I have no idea _what_ you're talking about.”

Burnie had tried keeping his temper with this one, but after that last response, he balled his fists tightly and slammed them down onto the table in front of Michael who, unsurprisingly, didn't flinch. Burnie sighed deeply after a moment and backed away.

“We're trying to make this easy on you,” he said.

“You just need to tell us where he is and where all the stuff is at and _maybe_ your sentences won't be as bad,” Officer Joel added. Michael snickered as he shook his head, causing both men to exchange questioning looks.

“You two idiots know _everything_ that I've done and you're telling me that confessing to more of it and revealing all that I've got is gonna make the punishment _less_ worse?” Michael asked, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Why are you taking the whole credit?” Burnie asked, dismissing the rest of Michael had said. Michael cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow up at him. “You say 'I', but we _know_ there was another guy involved.” Burnie stepped close to the table again, placing his hands on it before lowering himself to Michael's eye level. “Why are you protecting him so much?”

Michael seemed to tense at those words, sitting upright in his seat and expression hardening. Burnie could understand now, very clearly, that the other person, whoever they were, was Michael's weak spot. The most wanted man in the entire state, perhaps even the entire country since there were other news station who dared to get involved in sharing the story, had a weak spot. Burnie and Joel had finally managed to make a crack in the wall, the little facade, Michael always kept around him. And it felt good. They were getting somewhere else beside receiving sarcastic remarks and smug smiles that had been Michael's only answers since they brought him in the previous day.

Joel leaned forward now, too, and asked, “Is he really worth the double pain you're going to endure?” Michael averted his eyes and shifted a little in his seat. “Because if you tell us who he is, we'll find him and we'll make sure the punishment is equal. It'll be a _little_ less painful. Doesn't that sound nice-”

“No,” Michael answered so quickly that Joel's eyebrows shot up.

“Ah,” Joel nodded, the corners of his lips rising, “Is he your boyfriend? Your _lover_? Someone you fuck around with when you're in the mood?” Involuntarily, a tear rolled down Michael's cheek. Joel and Burnie stood up straight as they frowned.

“Look, Michael, we're not assholes,” Burnie told him, “We might not get why you chose this kind of lifestyle, but everyone has a story, right?” He took a deep breath as he gathered what he was going to say next. “Tell us yours. Help us understand you better. What made a New Jersey boy like you run all the way to the city of Los Santos – a place you know you didn't fit in? How and where did you meet your accomplice?”

Despite his watery eyes, Michael powered through it and laughed. “Am I getting the death penalty?”

“It hasn't been decided yet,” Joel answered.

“Right, okay. I think you already know the answer anyway, since you know I've killed and that's a big no-no anywhere. There's also no point in me trying to hide anything anymore seeing that you've got me stuck here,” Michael paused to shrug, “I won't tell you his name, though.” Joel looked down as he pinched the bridge of his nose and it seemed to persuade Michael further, “I'll call him... mmm, Bonnie.”

Burnie made a noise in the back of his throat sounded sort of like a laugh, but he covered his mouth as soon as it came out. “As in _Bonnie_ and Clyde?” He asked after recollecting himself. “Are you Clyde?”

“You wanna keep making jokes with me or you wanna hear the story? Because I'm good with making jokes,” Michael winked at him.

“No, tell us the story about you and... _Bonnie_.”

“No, no. I have to start from the beginning first and then work my way to when I met him.”

“Just talk,” Joel sighed, sounding frustrated. Michael smiled sweetly up at him.

 

* * *

 

“He's a gifted child.”

“A joy to have in class.”

“He's definitely going places.”

And everything in between, Michael had heard it all when he was dragged along to parents night at his older brother's school.

“Oh, and you have a younger boy! If he is anything like his brother, you'll have nothing to worry about,” a teacher would say as they stared fondly down at four year old Michael. Michael would merely stand behind his mom or dad with a pout on his face. His parents would smile and thank the teacher before walking on.

Mr. Jones could feel Michael practically clinging to his leg for dear life and he would halt in his tracks to look over at the boy. “Michael, let's move along now.”

“Why do I have to be here?” Michael asked, looking around frantically at the many other parents wandering around the gymnasium.

“I want you to see how this works and maybe one day these teachers will be saying these things about you.”

Michael let go of his father's leg then and crossed his arms, but he gasped when he realized neither he or his mother were stopping. Of course they weren't, because they were too indulged in listening to whatever another parent had to say about their “precious son”. Michael furrowed his eyebrows as he stomped his way over to his dad's side and stood there once more, deciding that if they weren't going to pay any attention to him, then he wouldn't pretend that he wasn't having fun.

He spent the rest of that evening stubbornly following his parents around, dragging his feet across the floor, and sitting down wherever he could find an empty chair. He wasn't sure how long it took for his parents to be done with speaking to every teacher, but by the time they did, he felt sick of how many compliments he had heard about his brother. Okay, his brother was ideal, he was smart, he was _perfect..._ in a sense, but really, to Michael, he was just “big brother” – the person who always picked on him for having freckles and a dimple, because it made him look like “such a baby.” So he was having trouble understanding why the teachers were praising him like that. His brother was _not_ a big deal.

But that night was probably where it started, where Michael realized that his parents had high standards for him, that they expected him to fill in his brother's shoes and succeed in school as much as he had. Although, he still was a child and the thought would leave his mind for long periods of times and only return when it was triggered again, such as, on his brother's birthday. All of their relatives would come over for the party and he would have to listen to his parents _rave_ about the birthday boy.

At the age of ten, Michael came to the conclusion that he was definitely growing up within the shadows of his brother, that everything he did was never as good or that he could have “tried harder”. By the time he was fourteen and his brother was moving out to go to college out of town, he was more than sick of it. His brother was gone, yet his parents continued to compare the two. Michael couldn't be his own person, it seemed. He had to be Jason, because if he wasn't Jason, he was simply Michael, and that just wouldn't do. That wasn't good enough.

That perfect score he got on his final exam? Oh, but he _still_ didn't get an A overall in the class.

He cleaned up the whole house without being asked? Oh, he missed a spot.

He never went to parties and got drunk or high like his classmates would. Oh, it was because he was so awkward and needed to open up more like Jason had. Why didn't he join clubs and meet new people? Or volunteer somewhere like Jason had. _Like Jason. Like Jason. Like_ _ **Jason.**_

When he was seventeen, he blew up in his parents face. He was absolutely  _ done. _ “Because I'm not him, I'm  _ me.  _ If you can't accept, then get the  _ fuck _ over it and leave me alone!” He didn't want to see or hear their reactions; he stormed out of the house then and there, and that was the moment everything changed. 

He remembered walking down the street in a rage, fists tight at his sides, and then he was losing his balance as someone ran right past him.

“ _What the fuck_!” He shouted, spinning around to face them, but his expression turned into uneasiness when he saw the older man glaring daggers at him. Not only that, but he was holding a suspicious looking bag that appeared to be filled with various items. And Michael wondered if the police sirens in the distance were just a coincidence. 

Considering the fact that the sirens made the man nervous and curse under his breath, Michael figured that no, they weren't a coincidence. Michael was ready to walk off, but then the man was tossing the heavy bag at him before running toward the car parked nearby. Michael's eyes widened as he looked down at what he was holding.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked, his heart picking up pace as the sirens drew closer. 

“What does it look like I'm doing, kid?” The man spoke as he started to fiddle with something on the car. “I got what I came here for, now I'm stealing this car to get away with what I got before they try taking it back.”

“Y-you're _what_?!” Michael jumped as the car turned on and the man grinned at him. 

“Get in, kid.”

“I-I, uh... I'm not getting in there with you. I'll just leave and I won't fucking say shit, I swear!” 

“If you do, you better be careful, because I won't forget that face. Now throw the bag in the passenger's seat and _run_.” 

Michael nodded and was going to oblige until a particular question came to mind that he couldn't quite ignore. “Where are you gonna go?” 

“Los Santos, kid. Now hurry the fuck up!” 

“Los Santos?” Michael raised his eyebrows. 

“If you're stalling so that I get caught, I'll kill you. One way or another,” the man was speaking through gritted teeth and Michael felt chills run down his back. 

“Let me go with you,” he choked out before he really realized what he was saying. 

The man narrowed his eyes. “I thought you didn't want to.”

“Los Santos is a big city, yeah? All the way across the country?” The man merely nodded and Michael smiled crookedly. “I wanna get the fuck out of here. If you want, I'll leave you alone once we get there. Just give me a ride.” The man looked conflicted now, but as he turned his head and saw red and blue lights flashing against the buildings, he huffed.

“Get the _fuck_ in and let's go _now_!” Though he regretted it as soon as they were both inside the car. Michael clutched the bag in his arms, his heart drumming wildly against his chest, and he managed to see the police cars in the rear view mirror for a small moment before they were off. He was close to flying forward with how quickly the man drove, but kept steady and took deep breaths. What the hell was he doing? He had just gotten into a car with a criminal and they were now on their way to another state, unbelievably far from his home. He had school in the morning! Oh, but he hadn't even finished his homework, so maybe this was a good thing?

No, this wasn't a good thing. He was with a stranger and was holding stolen goods that were probably worth more than his house and every house in his neighborhood put together. He didn't even have any of his own belongings with him. What was he supposed to do once they were in Los Santos? 

Michael swallowed roughly and pressed his head back against the seat, the only comfort he had now was that they had momentarily lost the cops chasing them. 

“I know what you're doing, kid,” the man spoke after a while. Michael glanced over at him. “The only reason you got in this car with me was because you're running away from home. That's it, ain't it? You wanted to run away and used me to do it.”

“I... I didn't,” Michael squeezed his brows together as he tried making sense of everything to himself first. “I didn't know I wanted to until you gave me the opportunity.”

“I'll tell you one thing; as soon as I'm sure we're safe, I'm kicking you out of this car and you're gonna find your own ride back home.”

“ _What_?!” Michael practically growled. “You're just gonna dump out there alone?!” 

“You don't wanna go to Los Santos, kid. You're better off at home and finishing school.”

“Stop calling me 'kid'!”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“You're a kid.”

Michael groaned and faced forward, wrinkling up his nose. “You can kick me out of the car once we get to Los Santos,” his voice was low.

“I'm not going to be responsible for you if we get caught before we get there.”

“I'll tell them it wasn't your fault. I'll tell them I got in here by my own choice. That _is_ the truth.”

The man gripped the steering wheel. “Anything happens to you, if you get killed, that's all on you, kid.” Michael nodded, and they didn't really say much to each other anymore after that. It took them days to get to their destination and on some nights they stayed in the shittiest hotels they could find. Other nights, they settled for the car, taking turns in sleeping to make sure nobody was following them. 

And on the day they reached the city, Michael felt a lump form in his throat. This was where he went out on his own to figure out what he was going to do next, with no one to guide him, and he felt stupid. The man, who he still didn't know the name of, parked the car in front of a small coffee shop and looked at Michael, waiting. 

“Thank you for the ride,” Michael whispered, opening the door. 

“You should have stayed in Jersey,” was all the man said to him as Michael stepped out. Michael turned around and was barely able to close the door before the man was driving off again. He stared after the car for a while, the nerves settling into his stomach. Good gosh, he made the _biggest_ mistake of his life, and now he had to decide whether to go along with it or find a phone to call his parents. 

“Hey,” someone said and it took him a moment to realize it was addressed to him. He looked at the person over his shoulder and relief washed over him when he saw it was someone who was about his age. “Are you okay?” 

“I'm great,” he lied, forcing a smile on his face. The other teenager didn't appear to be convinced, however, since he folded his arms across his chest.

“Who was that man that just dropped you off?”

Michael's smile faltered. “That's none of your fuckin' business.” 

“Is that a Jersey accent?”

“Shut up,” Michael rolled his eyes and looked away. 

“Hey, man, I don't mean to _offend_ you. I'm just asking because I used to live in New York. You know, it's not that far from Jersey.”

Michael brightened at those words. He spun around to come face to face with him. “And what are you doing here now?” 

“Not the same as you, but I won't ask,” the teen smiled. “I'm Ray.” He held out his hand and Michael hesitated for a bit.

“Uh, Michael,” he mumbled, shaking Ray's hand quickly. Michael thought himself lucky, very fucking lucky, from then on out, because if it weren't for meeting Ray that day, he might have ended up alone in the streets. Ray lived in a small apartment downtown with his dad, a man who honestly didn't ask much questions and allowed Michael to stay with them. Ray helped a lot by explaining how Michael was a longtime friend and a bunch of other nonsense that probably made Michael look as a sad little kid to Mr. Narvaez, but it worked. 

Michael still thought about calling his parents, every single day. He thought about apologizing and asking them to go get him, to bring him home, but the way they treated, all the pressure they threw upon him (“ _... Like Jason. _ ”) held him back from picking up that phone. He didn't go to school, but he did leave with Ray everyday to give off the illusion to Mr. Narvaez, and he would stay out until Ray was done so they could walk back together.

There was a day where he headed to the pier as always that he witnessed  _ them. _ A group of three men, loading up a truck, but only one of them ended up getting in that truck and driving off while the other got into a car. They drove quickly past Michael and Michael only saw a quick glimpse of a green duck on the hood. His curiosity got the best of him and later that day, he asked Ray about it.

“Did one of them happen to be wearing face paint?” Ray questioned him, a bit of awe in his eyes. 

“Uh, yeah,” Michael nodded.

“Dude! Those are the guys that are the Fake AH Crew, aka my inspirations.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Michael, do you really think I'm going to just stay in this shit apartment for the rest of my life? Or until I go to college and find a good job?” 

Michael blinked a few times before shrugging and Ray sighed. 

“No, I'm not. The second I graduate high school, my plan is to get the Fake AH Crew's attention and hopefully be invited to join,” Ray explained. Michael wasn't sure how to react. For one, he was not the least bit surprised; he just didn't know what to say to that. Ray started talking again, though. “Hey, you know... we could help each other out. We could do this together.” Michael widened his eyes at that.

“How?” He asked. Ray placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him in closer before whispering the plans into his ear. Michael listened carefully to each word, his lips tugging upward, but not because he was interested, but because it was helping conjure up his _own_ plans. He was grinning wickedly by the time Ray was done and pulling back. Ray smiled in return, assuming they were on the same page, and they were, to a certain extent. 

But Ray didn't expect Michael to disappear overnight.

Ray's dad had a handgun – something Michael accidentally discovered when searching for tools to help fix Ray's bike. After hearing Ray's plan and coming up with plans on his own, Michael waited until the two were asleep before sneaking into the cabinet he knew that gun was stored. His hands were shaking as he grabbed it, but he had realized something that day – he couldn't stay there forever either. He had to do things for himself, to make it there, and he wasn't going to depend on Ray. Not anymore.

Michael stuffed the gun into one of Ray's old school backpacks, along with the new clothes Mr. Narvaez had been kind of to buy him, and he was gone. 

The man who had brought him to Los Santos in the first place made his living off getting what he wanted, and Michael was ready to do the same. So as he sneaked into the jewelry store that night, pulling his hood further over his head, he smirked as he lifted the gun, knowing full well he hardly knew what he was doing with it, but it was sure enough to get what he went there for. 

 

* * *

 

Michael sighed, loudly and drawled out as he stared at Joel and Burnie still standing patiently in front of him. Well, Burnie  _ was _ being patient until he noticed Michael's prolonged silence. 

“ _And_?” He asked finally while Joel stood next to him with arms crossed.

Michael raised his eyebrows, a satisfied smirk gracing his features. “Hmm?”

“Get to it, Jones. You haven't even gotten to the Bonnie part.”

“Oh, well, _shit._ Don't you know? A good story teller always keeps them wanting more.”

Burnie and Joel narrowed their eyes at him and he had to bite down on his lower lip to prevent his smirk from increasing. This was going to take longer than they'd like. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell yeah I added another part, because IT WAS GETTING LONG AGAIN. hahaha no, I actually couldn’t decide whether to make it 2 or 3 parts, but now I decided that “3″ is good. 
> 
> Oh, and like before with Gavin's name, when I write the "Story" part, I refer to them as the Fake AH Crew, but Michael doesn't when telling Joel and Burnie. :)

The room had grown increasingly silent with nothing but a buzz from the vents and some flickering from the light bulb above to offer some sound. But then came a sucking noise that Joel and Burnie quickly realized was only Michael messing with his lips and tongue.

“That enough of a major cliffhanger for you?” Joel finally asked. Michael puckered his lips as he glanced back and forth between the two. He was stalling. Yes, it was more than obvious that he was buying himself more time. For what, though? Joel and Burnie weren't sure. Stalling could no longer benefit him, as far as they were concerned.

“Nope,” Michael answered.

“Jones, _talk_!” Burnie screamed, slamming his fists on the table as he had earlier, but this time, the table moved slightly with the impact. Michael huffed.

“Well, see, I _was_ going to finish my story, but now you've made me mad,” he was using a mocking tone, mocking Burnie's anger. Joel wandered around the table until he was standing mere inches from Michael to where Michael needed to crane his neck back to look up at him.

“Michael, you stopped being funny a _long_ time ago.”

“So I was funny once?” Michael grinned. There also a little glimmer of hope in those light brown eyes that made Joel's demeanor soften, because despite all of the terrible and ruthless things Michael had done since the age of seventeen (now being a twenty-five year old), Joel knew well that Michael still possessed some sort of heart and soul.

Ah, yes, Michael was twenty-five. He was twenty-five and almost definitely heading on his way to a death sentence. To be dead at only twenty-five. Not even thirty years old yet. Joel shook his head as if to shake the bit of guilt that was rising from the thought of that. Anything that happened to Michael from then on out was all his own fault for doing what he did. Michael knew what he was doing and how much trouble it would get him in, yet he did it anyway, for his own benefit, and perhaps for the benefit of _Bonnie_ , since it was clear now that Michael's feelings for Bonnie ran deep.

Michael just didn't deserve any sympathy at this point. He was thief, a murderer, and recently, a con artist, but that last one obviously didn't last. Even though Joel knew Michael had a heart, it hardly cared for much, so why would Joel waste his time feeling bad?

Joel grabbed Michael by the chin, pinching it slightly, to keep Michael's attention. Michael's grin faded away into a cold glare. Joel was unfazed by it. “Stop testing our patience, Michael. The more time you take, the more time you give to the rest of team out looking for Bonnie.” Michael swallowed roughly and turned his head away, managing to get out of Joel's little grip.

Joel shared a worrisome look with Burnie until they heard Michael sighing.

“So, Bonnie and I... we, uh, we had our ups and our downs – mostly downs-” Michael paused to smirk there and Burnie honestly had to fight back a smile, “-but if you asked me to change any part of it, I wouldn't.”

* * *

 

 

 **Five years later**.

“I've got eye on him now, Geoff. On your left and down the hall,” the British man said as he studied the security camera footage of different rooms on his various laptops. Michael tilted his head as he watched him from afar, amused at how unaware the Brit was that he wasn't alone. Michael knew who this man was, though. It was why he was there at all. He was Gavin, the Fake AH Crew's most trusted hacker, and it was only recently that Michael came to the thought that having a hacker around would be of much use to him. And the more he watched Gavin work, the more he knew how true that was.

Messing with the Fake AH Crew or any of its members was definitely an easy ticket to death, but after the countless times they've taken his jobs, he was ready to do some payback. Hey, he could maybe even remind Ray that he was still around. He had heard that Ray was the newest guy on the team. _Good for you, Ray, you made it_. Ray was actually making this difficult when it didn't need to be. He didn't want to do any harm to his old friend, the person that helped him out a lot when he had no one, but he was _pissed,_ because the damn Fake AH Crew believed they ruled the city and he wasn't having any of it anymore.

Michael began making his way up to Gavin, walking on the tips of his toes to keep from making any noise.

“Jack, it's clear there. Go on,” Gavin spoke again before pressing some keys and changing the footage on one laptop. “Uh, Ryan... there is someone approaching the stairs, but they seem to be occupied on their phone. That gives you time to get out without them really paying you any mind. Oh, and Geoff?” Gavin frowned when there was no response. “Geoff?” He tried again and immediately typed rapidly on his laptop, searching for the man in question through one of the cameras before he felt something against his temple.

He froze.

“None of them can hear you anymore,” Michael told him, dangling the ripped wires in front of Gavin's face.

“You do realize they'll know something is up and come back anytime soon, right?” Gavin reminded him. Michael grinned.

“Yeah, dipshit, I thought of that.”

And then Gavin was grinning as he looked up to meet Michael's eye, no longer afraid that there was a gun aimed at him. Michael wouldn't dare shoot. “Hi, love,” he greeted him. “I was wondering when you'd be back for me.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Michael sighed, putting his weapon down and back into it's holster under his leather jacket. “Your crew is kind of always _all_ over you and it was hard to get in.”

“I've got to give them credit,” Gavin said, closing the laptops and standing up, “They are good at what they do.”

“I guess I have to agree with you, but _not_ good enough to catch when they're about to lose one of their members.”

Gavin shrugged before wrapping an arm around Michael's waist and pulling him in closer. “I missed you,” he whispered. Michael brushed his lips against Gavin's, planting a gentle kiss after a moment.

“Got everything you need?” He then asked.

“Yep,” Gavin nodded, stepping away from Michael to pick up the laptops. “My bags are in my room.” Michael turned on his heel to head toward Gavin's bedroom. “I'm glad I can leave without the guilt that I let them get killed, but it _would_ have been nice if you would have waited a bit more for me to finish telling Geoff what I wanted to say.”

“Did I just get Geoff killed?” Michael called from the room.

“No, Geoff will be fine, but it was a bit of advice he could have used.”

“Ah, well, as long as he lives.”

Gavin laughed and shook his head. He looked around at his surroundings, taking it in at once, because he knew he wouldn't be seeing it anymore after he left with Michael. He and Michael had known each other for about a year. It was during a heist that Ryan had created and Gavin was forced to go out into the field to take his own part that wasn't behind computer screens for once, which was fine. Gavin knew how to handle a good amount of weapons.

It was an accident, how he and Michael met. Gavin's next move was to hide out on top of a roof and on his way there, he found Michael sitting against the wall and tending to a bleeding wound on his leg. Gavin would have kept running, but they locked eyes and he halted instantly.

“Are you alright?”

“I'll be fine,” Michael murmured, breaking the eye contact to look down at the wound.

“Do you need any help?”

“I said I'll _be_ _fine_.”

Gavin furrowed his eyebrows at the attitude and began to walk off, but Michael spoke up.

“What the fuck are you doing?” There was a pause, and then another question, “Are you part of the reason there's chaos out there tonight?” A laugh followed. “You're part of the Fake AH Crew,” it wasn't a question that time, but a statement. A true statement.

Gavin turned back to look at Michael and couldn't help the smug smile from spreading across his face. “I've got to go. I hope that nasty wound heals quickly,” he said, and with a nod, he ran off.

“I'll see you around!” Michael called after him.

Gavin stopped again, intrigued by that. “I would highly doubt it, love.”

“ _Would_ you?” That was the trick in getting Gavin to look at Michael again. The way Michael was smiling at him was all it took for Gavin to know that this wasn't going to be the last time they saw each other. And it certainly wasn't.

Though their meetings were kept in secret, it wasn't long until the friendship (if they could call it that) was something more. They enjoyed talking to each other, and not just about what they did, but really _talk_ to each other. Gavin knew more about Michael than Michael could ever let anyone else figure out, and vise-versa. Gavin's story was quite similar to Michael's, but instead of running away across the country to Los Santos, Gavin ran away from a whole different country. Gavin came from a wealthy family, though, so it wasn't hard for Gavin to get the money to run away properly and actually live comfortably in the city before joining the crew. He thought nothing could get better than being with that gang, but he had never planned on meeting Michael and craving a different kind of thrill that he only felt with him.

His decision to leave the crew was one he had to sleep on for months, but when he knew his answer, he couldn't wait for the day to come. At first, he was going to tell everyone and make a good departure with goodbyes and everything, yet where was the fun in that? Sure he would miss them and everything, but he was happy with Michael, and he was excited about starting their new life together.

Michael walked out of the bedroom, holding Gavin's bags under his arms because they were indeed much heavier than he thought they would be, and Gavin kissed him on the cheek as they walked out.

* * *

 

 

Michael hummed contently as he slowly woke up to the feeling of warm tongue against his neck with the occasional gentle biting and sucking. When it stopped, he fluttered his eyes open to be met with Gavin's, and he tried not letting the way his heart leaped be shown, but he smiled a little too much. Gavin leaned down and captured Michael's lips with his own. This was their basic morning routine and Michael never tired of any second of it. And on cue just like every morning, Gavin's stomach made a rumbling noise that had Michael laughing against the kiss.

“Alright, get off me so I can make us both breakfast,” he said softly. Gavin obliged, rolling over and off Michael. Michael took his time stretching until he was sitting up and it would take another small moment to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Part of that morning routine was to walk over to the window and admire the view of whatever city they were finding themselves in every other week. They never stayed in one place too long, for their own safety, especially with they mess they created often, leaving bodies behind of those who wanted to make it harder. They would clean up their trail, but not everything could be perfect, so they moved around a lot.

Michael yawned, stepping away from the window and heading out of the bedroom. On his way to the kitchen, a note lying on the floor near the front door caught his attention. He raised an eyebrow and walked over to retrieve it, yet he already had a feeling he knew what it was.

 _We know he's with you. Give him back to us now. Don't be stupid, Michael._ Written clearly in Ray's handwriting. Michael frowned. The Fake AH Crew was evidently much better at keeping up with where he and Gavin were than the police ever could, but it was still as frustrating. Michael crumbled up the note and tossed into the trash bin right as Gavin sauntered into the room.

“What are we having for breakfast today?” He asked, cheerily and oblivious to what else was going on around him. Michael had been receiving those handwritten threats a month after he and Gavin left, but Michael couldn't find it within him to actually _tell_ Gavin about them.

“Uh, I don't know yet, but I think we should leave today,” he said, hoping his weary tone wouldn't give anything away. Gavin frowned.

“This is the shortest we've stayed anywhere.”

“I know, baby, but... we need to be safe, you know?”

Gavin made a whiny noise in the back of his throat, but aside from that, he voiced no complaints. Michael gently took hold of Gavin's hand before leading him into the kitchen. Once there and once Michael opened the refrigerator, their hands separated.

“What are you hungry for?” He asked. Gavin's lips quirked. He wrapped his arms around Michael's waist and rested his chin on Michael's shoulder.

“You,” he whispered. Michael rolled his eyes, but he didn't try wiggling out of Gavin's embrace.

Five months, close to being six soon, since Gavin officially (well, perhaps not _officially_ ) left the Fake AH Crew to follow Michael around and cause trouble.

 _Team Nice Dynamite_ was their name, courtesy of Gavin. Michael hardly thought anything of the silly team name, and then it sort of started to grow on him. It really was a good combination of the two of them. Gavin was the “nice” part due to the fact that he was the one to lure anybody they needed to into their trap with playing the friendly guy who just needed some “help with something” and that it “wasn't going to take too long.” This wouldn't happen with just anyone, though. It wasn't as if they were luring completely innocent people. No, they wouldn't go _that_ far, but they surely did have their fun with those who liked to play the same game as them, because it was amusing to see how much they sucked at it.

Or, if they saw someone who wasn't a criminal but had a sour attitude and personality toward people who didn't deserve it, Michael and Gavin would handle them. In a way, it could make them see like they were heroes, in a eerie way, but they looked at it more as them getting rid of anyone who annoyed them for their own pleasure. There was simply something about knowing any problem that tried ruining their peace was gone because of their doing. Whether it'd be a quick kill or a scare tactic to make the person run, it was a rush either way and they enjoyed it.

So it would begin by Gavin doing what he did, being the “nice”.

First step: bringing up something about them to initiate conversation (“ _Oh, that is a lovely suit you're wearing. Mind telling me who your tailor is? Mine can never get my suits fitting just right._ ” or around the lines of that while sporting the cutest smile he could muster), and if the person seemed unimpressed, Gavin would step it up a bit.

Such as... a week earlier when they were moving about near Nevada, contemplating risking the chances of their faces being recognized and entering Las Vegas for a night off. After what felt to be endless hours of driving down the dessert roads of Inyo County with nothing but dry land, boulders, occasional tree or two, and hills to look at for miles, they finally found themselves arriving in Shoshone, California. It truly was such a small area that appeared to just be one straight ride through and they'd be out. The population being just over thirty proved that to be correct, but that's why they stopped there. No one would know who they were.

Michael made sure to park far enough away from the cafe they were to eat at. As usual, they entered the building separately in case they needed to put a plan into action. Gavin was doubting anything bad could happen there, though, but he was quickly proven wrong as he sat at a table in the corner while Michael took it upon himself to sit right up front at the counter. Michael was to eventually join Gavin at the table if nothing occurred, except something did.

The small restaurant had a traditional western atmosphere; old paintings on the walls of how it looked when it was first built and a deer's head. The main color was red, on the lower part of the wooden walls and the tablecloths. It was all so cozy and inviting to the Brit, especially with the friendly waitress walking around and laughing with costumers (most likely residents she knew far too well at this point) and he was beginning to settle more into his seat with a menu in his hands when he heard an obnoxious comment being thrown at said waitress.

“Hey there little lady. How's about you shake that pretty ass over here?”

Gavin's brows shot up as he lowered the menu to see the man disgusting enough to say that. He could see Michael's hands curling into fists, because the man was sitting right next to him at the counter. Gavin cringed. The man certainly didn't look to be from around the area, so it came to no surprise that he was speaking to the waitress the way he was. Everyone else did live there and actually knew how to respect one another. The waitress pretended she didn't hear him say anything to her and Gavin smiled slightly at that.

“What about you?” The man then asked another woman sitting on his left. Michael turned his head to the man. From where he was sitting, Gavin couldn't tell what look Michael had on his face; he only imagined it was utter repulse and annoyance.

Michael brought a hand up and scratched a spot on his head, by his right ear where Gavin would notice and then glanced idly in his direction. That was the signal. Gavin set the menu neatly down on the table and stood up before casually making his way up to the counter. He saw the waitress look over at him, but he waved her off, knowing she wanted to apologize for not taking his order yet. As soon as she turned back to the other customer, Gavin sauntered up to the man.

“Hi there,” Gavin spoke, using his best impression of an American accent that Michael had to admit was practically perfect now. Michael silently thanked the owner of the place for giving him a cup of water and immediately sipped on it to hide his smile.

“What?” The man grumbled in response. Michael didn't miss the look of relief that washed over the other girl's face now that the man didn't have his attention on her.

“Is that your beautiful car out front?” Gavin asked. The man cocked an eyebrow. “I'm assuming, because you do look like someone who would be fortunate enough to own something as incredible-” he was cut off by the man's laughter.

“I don't have a penny to my name,” the man told him, shaking his head. “But I sure do know how to make myself look the part, don't I?” Gavin smiled and Michael blinked, because he was still unsure how Gavin was so good with guessing correctly.

“So, are you saying that is your car?”

“Yeah, that's my car. Fixed her up myself.”

Gavin's face light up. “You can fix cars?” The man gave him a nod. “That's fantastic, because...” Gavin looked around to make sure no one else but Michael was listening, because step two was about to go into play (ask for “help”). He then leaned in closer to the man, “I came into town hoping to get my car fixed up. It's making this strange noise and I'm worried to drive anymore and having it break down, you know? My problem is that this crummy town doesn't have an automobile repair shop.”

“Oh, _boo-hoo_ ,” the man rolled his eyes, “Save your sob story for someone that cares.”

“You said you don't have a penny to your name and I,” Gavin patted his back pocket, “happen to have more than enough to pay you to fix up my car.” Michael took a larger gulp from his water to prevent another smile from showing.

“Prove it,” the man spat. Gavin grinned as he pulled out his wallet to show his proof.

Step three: convincing.

Michael took a peek as well. There was a stack of large bills and credit cards that filled Gavin's wallet, but Michael wanted to laugh at knowing that it was mostly fake. Gavin's real money was securely hidden elsewhere, along with Michael's. They only carried a bit of their real earnings if they needed it, but they weren't stupid and weren't going to flaunt the rest of it everywhere.

The man, however, was fooled, and he was in awe of what he was looking at.

“Do we have a deal?” Gavin was asking after a moment. Surprisingly, the man turned to look at Michael with an expression that read “Can you believe this guy?”

Michael shifted in his seat and shrugged. “If I could fix cars and someone was offerin' to pay me that much, I'd do it,” he said, putting emphasis on his Jersey accent that he'd been slowly losing since he got to Los Santos. The man furrowed his eyebrows.

“Where the hell are you from?” He asked Michael. Michael didn't respond as the waitress walked up in front of him to ask for his order. The man sighed loudly and met Gavin's eyes once more. “I'll make sure your car works like new.”

Step four: sealing the deal.

“My car is this way,” Gavin said as he started making his way to the door.

The girl who had been sitting next to the man stood up before he did and Michael nearly choked on his water when the man whistled at her. Michael looked at Gavin over his shoulder and could see Gavin was seething within just as much as he was but was strongly resisting to show it. Michael watched Gavin walk out of the restaurant with the man and prepared himself for his part – the “dynamite”. He heard the waitress – Jane – tell him his food would be ready soon and he smiled sweetly at her before saying he forgot something in his car and would return soon.

Jane turned away and Michael quickly left a twenty dollar bill underneath the napkin holder. He wouldn't be back for his food, so the least he could do was pay for it. He got off his seat and strolled out of there, taking deep breaths to keep his anger under control. He idly brushed against his hip to feel for his gun, but he also had a pocket knife for a little added fun, and he narrowed his eyes as he saw Gavin standing next to his car with the man. The fact that he had decided to park the car far down the road made this all too much easier.

Michael checked through the windows until he was certain nobody was paying him any attention, and he walked over to the man's car. Gavin had made sure the man's back would be to Michael and Michael couldn't help but smile about that as he crouched down slightly. He took out his pocketknife and in one swift, tough move, he slashed the right front tire. It could have been a better slash if he had a more decent knife on him, but it would have to do. And he went on to repeat the process with the other three tires.

After he was through, he pocketed the knife and a grin slowly formed on his face as he walked up to where Gavin was standing. The man had the hood of his car up to check for anything that was wrong.

“I don't get what you're talking about; this looks alright to me,” the man whined.

“Are you sure? There _has_ to be a problem,” Gavin insisted. Michael moved around the other side of the car, to the right, while Gavin stood on the left near the man, and he adored the way Gavin paid him no attention so that this creep wouldn't notice him either.

“Your car is in good condition,” the man told Gavin, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He was ready to stand straight up, but Gavin placed his hand on his arm to stop him. “Hey. _Don't_ touch me, you faggot.” Michael halted in his tracks at that, his right eye twitching. Gavin, of course, wasn't offended and shrugged off the insult as he put his hand down.

“Oh, wait, over there!” He squawked, pointing to a random spot. The man flinched at his sudden rise in volume, and it apparently angered him.

“ _Look_ , I said there's _nothing_ wrong with your damn car! But you're still going to pay me for wasting my _fucking_ time,” now he was standing straight up as he yelled in Gavin's face, unknowing that Michael was behind him. “Do I make myself clear?!” The entire time he was being yelled at, Gavin was blank, but he smirked at the question.

“You do,” he answered, speaking in his own accent again, and the man's brows twitched together in confusion. “I hope you understand what happens next.”

“What the fuck are you-” the man was instantly cut off by Michael grabbing the back of his neck with one hand and pulling him low enough for him to slam the car's hood halfway down with his other hand. The man blacked out and fell flat on the ground, looking lifeless, but Michael didn't slam the hood hard enough to kill him. There was bleeding wound on the man's temple and Michael's lips curled up.

“This probably won't teach him to treat people with respect, but it was fun,” Gavin said. Michael looked at him before stepping forward and grabbing his face. Their lips were crashed together seconds later – a needy, rough kiss that was mostly biting and sucking of Gavin's lower lip that when it was over, Gavin knew his lips looked swollen.

“Let's get the fuck out of here,” Michael whispered against his mouth and Gavin nodded, his head moving like a bobble head. Michael let go of him and jumped over the man's body to get to the driver's side while Gavin got into the passenger seat. Michael put the car in 'reverse' to move away from the body and then drove around it to speed down the road.

They only stopped three hours later when they made it to Ridgecrest, somewhere that didn't look to be such a ghost town. And that was where they were currently.

“Hey,” Michael spoke as he pulled out the carton of eggs from the refrigerator after Gavin stepped back from holding him.

“Hmm?” Gavin responded, raising his eyebrows.

“How's about that night off in Vegas? We can start driving tonight.”

Gavin's face fell and for a while, the only sounds that could be heard from Michael cracking the eggs into the pan he set on the stove and the eggs then cackling. Michael glanced back at Gavin, concerned, and Gavin blinked hard to regain himself.

“Uh, well, we've driven more _away_ from Vegas and I'm not really in the mood for a long drive right now,” he responded with a pout. “Why can't we stay here for another day? Just one more?”

Michael licked his lips as he turned back to the eggs he was cooking. One more day... well, maybe that wouldn't be terrible. The Fake AH Crew wouldn't jump in to attack right away. No, Michael knew they liked taking their time, for added suspense or some bullshit. Okay, they would spend one more day in Ridgecrest and the get the hell out of there the next afternoon before the Fake AH Crew could realize it. It would throw them off guard if they didn't run right when the message was received...

Michael smiled. Yes, this could work in his favor.

“One more day,” he said and his smile grew at the sound of triumphant Gavin made.

 

* * *

 

Joel moved away from standing next to Michael to join Burnie's side again. Michael was staring down at the table, but at the sound of whispering, he looked up. Burnie nodded at whatever Joel had told him and Michael squinted his eyes at them.

“The Achievement Hunter gang,” Burnie spoke, “So, they came back to haunt you, didn't they?” Michael pursed his lips and hoped he wouldn't laugh at the false name he'd given them. He wouldn't dare reveal that the _Achievement Hunter gang_ was actually the Fake AH Crew. That would make it too easy for them to discover who Gavin really was if they looked into the crew more. It was also hilarious to think about how they would probably leave later to try and find information about a gang that didn't exist.   “Is that where Bonnie is? Did they get him back? Or did Bonnie find out about the notes and leave you to go back to them?”

 

“Shut the fuck up and you'll find out,” Michael snapped, not even caring when Joel and Burnie reached back for their guns. He scoffed, though. “Relax. I'm getting there.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the final part!! Thank you to those who read this! :D

Michael and Gavin had managed to draw attention toward them since the first job (or rather, robbery) together. Cleaning a place out was a whole different process that deserved more than playing roles of “nice” and “dynamite” and since that particular job occurred only a few weeks after Gavin's departure from the Fake AH Crew, the planning took longer.

They were lounging around in their penthouse – the last place they lived in before leaving Los Santos, because what they planned, what they did during that first robbery together was why they couldn't stick around the city. Their identities hadn't been exactly discovered right away because of a sloppy slip up; Michael just suggested it'd be best if they left instead of waiting for the cops to slowly put the puzzle pieces together. Besides, there was so much more waiting for them outside of the city. There was also the fact that the Fake AH Crew _did_ run the city (no matter how much that annoyed Michael), and if they stayed, it would be stupid, because Gavin would risk being seen by them. Gavin agreed.

As they rested on the couch, planning that first robbery, Gavin with his head rested on Michael's chest and Michael absentmindedly running his fingers through Gavin's hair, they discussed ideas they had lingering in their minds. Gavin then came up with something especially clever, to which Michael added onto a little, and when Gavin continued on, Michael jumped to his feet. This was a breakthrough. Gavin followed after him into a room down the hall, right near their bedroom.

The room was littered in different articles spread across its walls. The first Gavin had lied eyes on this particular room a few months back during his first visit to the penthouse, he laughed, because the articles weren't just any articles – they were ones specifically made about the things Michael had done and how baffled journalists and police were that they didn't know _who_ did it. Michael hung those articles up as little awards he was proud of and really, Gavin couldn't blame him. Jack would do the same sometimes.

In the center of the room was a white board and Michael grabbed a marker off its tray before jotting down what they had been beginning to discuss. Gavin stood near the door with arms folded across his chest as he read off the list, a smile spreading across his face. They were hitting the bank, something neither of them had attempted yet. The Fake AH Crew always talked about robbing one of the banks, but complications kept getting in the way and planning would just fall through at the last minute. But Michael and Gavin were ready to attempt this together, and to succeed at it.

_Hack into their security system, finding where each camera is facing._

_Disguises. I like to brag about what I'm about to do to who I'm doing it to, but for our sake, not this time. Masks? Nah, too predictable._ Gavin laughed upon reading that part.

Michael took his phone out and quickly searched something on it, grinning as his results came up. Their bank was hiring. Michael put his phone away and scribbled something else on the board. He was going to go in for an “interview” and Gavin was intrigued there.

_Good clothes. New shoes. Bring in a folder filled with fake important papers so they think I'm serious about this shit. Fake resume, etc._

Gavin stated that he would create that fake resume, because it gave him more to do and he enjoyed making up identities. It was one of the other things he had often done with the Fake AH Crew. This entire plan was solely focused on having Michael go out into the field while Gavin would remain safe in the penthouse and was only to leave when Michael was ready to hit. Gavin would leave and cause a distraction outside of the building, buying Michael enough time.

Gavin would then sneak in through the back door they had found when scoping out the building from outside, and they would gather their treasure together. Of course nothing was as simple as that, but they were willing to risk it to see as far as it would take them.

And oh how they succeeded.

Michael had been called in for an interview after going for a “job” and arrived at about 2 PM, wearing black dress shoes, black slacks and a light blue collared shirt (with sleeves rolled down, unfortunately, because Gavin told him tattoos wouldn't be a good sign. Which was kind of stupid since Michael didn't give a shit about the interview). He even chose his glasses over contacts for added effect. He smiled at everyone who walked passed him, even going as far as to say “Good afternoon” to the more friendlier looking people and they responded with equal kindness, because he looked like any other ordinary person, especially since they had no idea he had a gun hidden within his slacks near his hip.

“Well, don't you just look _absolutely_ handsome,” Gavin whispered as he looked through the camera where he could see Michael walking by in the lobby.

Michael's lips curled up. “I heard that,” he said, reaching a hand up to touch the comm in his ear. “And you made your point earlier,” he glanced up toward the camera to send a quick wink at Gavin. Gavin grinned and shook his head. Michael didn't have to remind him twice. They took a while getting his curls to look nice and combed neatly to the side only to have to redo it moments later...

“Move along, Michael. We've got one chance at this.”

“Alright,” Michael sighed. He walked over to a table on the side where a lady was sat, dressed in clothes that looked expensive enough to never wear out – at least not for a long while. She looked up at him with a smile as he approached.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted, using his best and most innocent smile that had Gavin resisting a laugh when he saw it. “I'm here for an interview and I'm not really sure where to go from here,” he even sounded innocent. Seriously. Who could look at Michael – all freckles, dimples, light brown eyes and curly hair – and think “This is a dangerous man who's about to rob my bank”? No one, that's who. That was the beauty of it.

The same went for Gavin, though. People looked at him and only saw an attractive young British man with sparkling green eyes and a charming smile. They didn't see a man who was capable of robbery, fraud, hacking, or the occasional murder. Though this was Los Santos and things such as that were expected, most of the criminals usually had a sort of _look_ about them that gave away their intentions while a handful certainly did not – Michael and Gavin being apart of that handful, and it worked so well in their favor in times such as this one.

“Ah, yes. We are having a couple of interviews going on today,” the lady told Michael as she stood from her seat. “Please follow me. I apologize for not knowing your name.”

“Zach,” he answered her, and with her back to him, she couldn't see the way he smirked.

Gavin quickly snapped his attention to the camera footage in the hallway where the woman was leading Michael. Michael constantly glanced around his surroundings, idly scoping out the area and how many people were around – inside the rooms if he could see them or just wandering around. There were quite an amount of employees, but Michael was confident that once Gavin set up the distraction, they'd all run to hide.

The woman stopped in front of a door and knocked a few times before turning to Michael. “What time was your interview supposed to be?”

“Uh, two-fifteen,” he told her. She nodded. When someone on the other side of the door asked who it was, she opened the door a little and said there was a person for an interview.

“Ah, yes – Zach Vincent, correct?” The man with a scratchy voice asked. “Two-fifteen?”

“Yes.”

“Give me about five minutes to finish up here with these papers and I'll be ready. Let him have a seat out there.”

Michael looked over to the wall to see a few chairs lined up against it and he walked over to them. The woman smiled at him and headed on her way back to the front. Michael watched her for a moment to make sure she wouldn't glance back at him from being suspicious. She didn't. Michael held his hand up near his ear and made a show of simply “scratching” his hair.

“How's the lobby lookin', Gav?” He made sure to keep his voice down. Gavin went to check. There was a line of people there, wanting to either cash their checks or in need of some other kind of help. He rolled his eyes at the sight of them.

“About ten people, not counting the tellers,” he responded.

“They have me waiting out here. Think we can start this earlier than planned and I can skip the interview shit altogether?” Michael was looking around as he talked, making sure no one was listening in on him. Gavin's eyes shifted toward the backpack next to one of his laptops on the coffee table where a few sticky bombs, knives, and a handgun were bundled inside.

“I won't make it there in five minutes and they'll be wondering where you went,” Gavin reminded him.

“Fine, fine. Just... start doing your thing. I should be done within ten minutes, fifteen at the most, but I'll try being terrible so they know right away that they don't wanna hire me.”

“Since when do you have to _try_ being terrible?” Gavin teased, a playful smile dancing on his face that Michael couldn't see, but he could _hear_ it in Gavin's voice.

“Shut up, asshole-” Michael paused as he saw the door opening, “Gotta go,” he whispered quickly. A tall man, looking beyond his years with silver hair and tired blue eyes stepped out and nodded toward Michael. Michael jumped to his feet and held out his hand.

“Zach?” The man asked.

“Yes, sir. It's _very_ nice to meet you.” They shook hands and Michael was gestured to head on inside, hoping this wouldn't take forever. He had never been in an interview and he was starting to remember why.

“Zach Vincent, I'm going to start with a simple question,” the man said as he took his seat at his desk. Michael sat down as well across from him and forced a small smile. “Why do you want to become a bank teller?” Oh, for fuck's sake. This was going to be horribly dull.

After various attempts and rapidly typing away into the bank's security information, Gavin managed to delete all of the saved footage to leave no trace of Michael ever being there. When that was taken care of, he shut the cameras off, leaving him with nothing but black screens, and he got to his feet to gather what he needed before heading out. He threw on the backpack and put on his golden framed aviators as he walked toward the front door. A large rolling luggage was waiting for him by the door and the corners of his lips rose as he thought about what was about to occur.

Once he was standing across the street from the bank, he casually moved behind the crowd to take his backpack off and grab what he needed from it. Everyone else was too indulged in what they were doing to pay him any mind and it gave him enough time to walk up to a car with sticky bomb in hand.

“Apologies to whoever owns this car, but it's shit,” Gavin said to himself as he placed the bomb a little underneath where no one would notice. He proceeded to do the same to a few others cars along the street and walked across to where the bank was. He knew the consequences of what he was doing and knew the plenty of deaths that would surely follow.

Well, the people just needed to listen closely to his warning if they wanted to live. As soon as he was nearing the alley next to the building, he took a deep breath.

“MOVE YOUR ARSES OUT OF THE WAY!”

One... two... a few screams as people rushed away... three... and _boom._

“Do you think-” the man interviewing Michael was cut short as the building rumbled and the sounds of something exploding filled the air. Michael raised his eyebrows slightly, holding back his smile as best as he could.

“What the _hell_ was that...” the man muttered under his breath, but the sounds of screaming and cries had him leaping from his seat. “We have to get out of here now! _Now_!” He was practically flying out of the room while Michael took his time getting up.

The man, along with everyone else who was around, went running toward specific exits, avoiding the front. Michael walked around the desk and opened up the drawers as he searched for something quickly. He found it much easier than he thought he would, idly wondering if this bank was just _waiting_ to be robbed, and stuffed the piece of paper into his pocket. He peeked out of the room to find a throng of fleeing people, scared out of their wits. Michael scoffed. Oh, they needed to relax a little. No harm was going to come to them.

But as soon as the coast was clear, he made his way down the other way of the hallway where the vault area was.

As he reached his destination, he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves. Fingerprints were such tattletales. Michael proceeded to taking that piece of paper he had taken from the drawer when a hand landed on his shoulder. He stiffened, but his first instinct was to reach for his gun and take out whoever that was without hesitation. Oh, he was so glad he didn't, though.

“Easy there, love,” Gavin purred into his ear and Michael actually had _goosebumps_ rise on his arms.

“I could have killed you for sneaking up on me like that,” Michael said as he turned around to come face to face with him. Gavin smiled lopsidedly before leaning in to capture Michael's lips with his own. In the midst of their slow kiss, Michael made a move of taking the sunglasses off Gavin's face and slipping them onto his own as he took a step back. Gavin shook his head, though he wouldn't deny how good they looked on Michael.

“You wanna do the honors?” asked Michael, slapping the piece of paper against Gavin's chest. Gavin grabbed it and unfolded it to find a series of numbers scrawled across.

“I'd _love_ to.”

Michael moved aside and watched his boyfriend put on his own pair of gloves before typing in the combination. There was a loud sound followed by a _ding!_ and they both grinned. Michael rolled the luggage inside.

While police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks pulled up onto the street to investigate the mysterious explosions of three cars, Michael and Gavin got their earnings packed up and sneaked out through where Gavin had entered. They avoided the main streets and kept cover behind buildings and people, their heads low. Nobody gave them a second look, figuring they were two guys going on a trip or returning from one, and they reached their penthouse without a scratch on them.

A success.

A real and quick success that deserved celebration. Lots of it.

Michael and Gavin only got to counting barely half of their money before resisting each other was too difficult to overcome. Gavin's fingers tangled themselves in Michael's curls as he straddled his lap. Michael's hands were just _everywhere._ From trailing up Gavin's side, going under the hem of his shirt to feel his soft skin, to returning lower and cupping Gavin's ass, lifting him up a little as he gave it a squeeze.

Their lips were awfully swollen by the time they decided it was better to finish in the bedroom. The trip there almost caused them numerous meetings with the floor as they stumbled about together. They were close to settling on the wall next to the bathroom. Michael had pressed Gavin up to that wall and pinned his arms above his head as he nipped and sucked around Gavin's neck. And Gavin bit down on his lower lip. He couldn't help but thrust his hips forward, hoping to feel some kind of friction.

Breathless laughs happened between them once they pulled away from that wall and made their way into the bedroom, landing right onto the bed. Shameless, desperate moans in the sounds of each other's names were exchanged as clothes were removed and tossed aside for tomorrow's problem.

They didn't care if they loud enough to be heard. They didn't care if they received complaints.

They had won. _Together._

That's what mattered. That's all that mattered.

And then they left that god forsaken city the following night.

* * *

 

“You two were clever with that first hit,” Burnie commented as he paced back and forth behind Joel. “Took us a long while to connect everything together and realize that robbery was from _you_.” Michael narrowed his eyes at him. He'd gone silent for a while and Burnie and Joel took the time to start reviewing all of the things Michael and _Bonnie_ had done together. Well, all of the things that they knew of. Michael was hardly listening to their version of the story and merely replayed the _real_ one to himself.

He had started talking about what had happened after he and Bonnie decided to stay in Ridgecrest for one more day, but then he sort of... trailed off when he went back to the events in his head.

“We'll applaud you for that,” Joel spoke up, “It was an amazing way to begin your adventure.”

“And I wouldn't change a god damn thing about it,” Michael said under his breath. Burnie halted in his tracks as Joel cocked his head to the side, both a bit unsure if they really had heard Michael say something.

They gave each other a questioning look before Burnie let out an exhausted sigh.

“Alright, Michael,” he placed his hands down on the table. “Who and _where_ is Bonnie?” Michael kept his eyes locked on the floor.

“You tell us and you can both go out together. Like Bonnie and Clyde,” Joel added. Michael let a low growl as he glared up at him. Burnie pushed Joel back gently and turned to him, whispering something harshly to him that Michael couldn't understand, but whatever it was, it had Joel giving Michael an apologetic look.

“I won't do it,” Michael told them, shaking his head. “I'd rather die alone than let you lay _one_ hand on him.”

“If he means so much to you, why would you put him through this?” Joel asked. “Why would you ruin his life that way?” Michael's expression hardened even more.

“I DIDN'T DO _ANYTHING!_ HE ALREADY HAD THIS LIFE _BEFORE_ ME!” Joel and Burnie honestly flinched at the Michael's shout and were amazed to see how red Michael's face had gone.

“But you made it worse,” Burnie protested. “You've done _so_ much, Michael Jones. _So_ much that you can _never_ be forgiven for-”

“Well, boo _fucking_ hoo,” Michael interjected, which Burnie easily ignored.

“-and for what? Huh? What was everything for? Was it really all that worth it?” Burnie asked, searching Michael's face for any answers to that. There were no verbal answers, but Michael's eyes watering more and more by the second was something. Burnie was close to shutting up at the sight of that. He didn't, though.

“Don't you think you could have just settled down somewhere with Bonnie? You two could have had a _good_ and _real_ life? Not one where you have to be on the run all the time. You two could have been happy-”

“We _were_ happy...” Michael's voice cracked with that last word and he dropped his head as a small whimper escaped him.

“And now you're probably never going to see him again.”

Michael shook his head, muttering “no” on repeat that were mixed with gasped breaths as he tried to calming himself down.

“So, you're definitely not telling us, right?” Michael went silent again, only sniffling and choked sobs coming from him. Burnie slumped his shoulders and met Joel's eye.

“Let's get him back to his cell,” he said quietly before going to the door and opening it. Joel stood still as Burnie called for the guards to come get Michael. Michael was escorted out while Burnie and Joel stayed behind in that room for a moment.

“We _did_ get a lot out of him,” Joel tried cheering Burnie up.

“Yeah, but we didn't get the _one_ answer we needed most,” Burnie reminded him. Joel sighed.

The guard that was holding Michael by the arm reached the cell, he unlocked it and threw open the metal door. Michael was still staring down as he felt his wrists become free from those dreadful handcuffs, but the ones around his ankles had to stay. He was pushed inside the cell and turned around as the door was shut and locked once more.

Michael stared sadly at the guard through the small window made of bars and the guard snorted.

“Don't give me that look. It's not my fault you're in here,” he remarked before walking off. Michael inhaled sharply and leaned his head forward against the bars. He heard whistling and closed his eyes, pretending he didn't hear it, because he knew it was directed toward him. When it continued, he turned away and sat on the bed with his head down.

“Aw, come on, pretty boy,” he heard someone, the one who'd been whistling to him – no doubt – say to him. “You looked a little lonely. I can make you feel better.”

“ _I can make you feel better,” Gavin cooed as Michael lied in bed with an unforgiving stomach ache. Michael was about to ask “how” when he felt gentle kisses peppering around his face. Of course that would do nothing to ease the pain in his stomach, but it did get him to smile. And Gavin did eventually leave to make him some sort of remedy his grandfather had taught him, which did do the trick._

_Gavin was many things – bad and good, but mostly good. He could go from trusted partner in crime to loving boyfriend to actual miracle worker. It had Michael wondering every night how he became so lucky in meeting him._

Another tear made its way down Michael's face and he roughly wiped with the back of his hand before turning his body more toward the wall even though there was no way anyone could see him if he wasn't near the door. He ignored anything else that guy said to him, because he was about ready to just lose it. Besides, he had other things he was worried about.

The Fake AH Crew was one determined group. They took Gavin.

That night they remained in Ridgecrest, Michael went out quickly to grab something from the grocery store when he found himself confronted by Haywood. He put up a good fight, but Ryan was still stronger and evidently more skilled than he could ever be. And he went down.

Gavin was asleep. They took him from the bed and knowing Gavin, he most likely didn't feel a thing, because he had his nights where he was a terribly heavy sleeper. It usually happened after long drives and Gavin was still exhausted from their recent long drive to Ridgecrest.

Michael woke a few hours later, alone in the dark on the sidewalk, and then he remembered. He jumped to his feet and ran back to their place, barging in through the front door and crying out his boyfriend's name. There was no one in the living room or kitchen.

He checked the bedroom and nothing. The bathroom... nothing. No one in sight throughout the place. At first, Michael fell to his knees and screamed until his throat hurt, but then he wasted no more time in getting the hell out of there and into his car, not caring about anything he left behind. He made his way to Los Santos, driving without a stop and as he entered the city, he sped up. Biggest mistake.

He'd gotten the attention of cops and though he was ready to drive even faster until he lost them, one of the police cars pulled and stopped up ahead to block his way. Michael had to stomp on the brakes. They automatically knew who he was and he was taken in on the spot.

Stupid.

After _everything_ he had gone through, _that_ was how he ended up being caught. For going after the one person he cared most about, but he didn't regret it. He regretted nothing.

He did what he had to do, from start to end. Here was his end and he could accept that, except for the part where he wasn't sure if Gavin was okay. That was what left him miserable. Just being unable to see those eyes he fell in love with and that ridiculous smile he adored, and that accent that made his heart rate speed up from simply hearing it.

Michael lied himself down on his side and frowned deeply, mentally apologizing to Gavin for ruining what they had going. They had it good for a long time. It could have lasted forever.

As he began to doze off, he heard a clanging sound on the bars of his cell door's window and sat up abruptly to find another guard making his round down the cells and obnoxiously banging his baton against everyone's cell. Michael rolled his eyes and pressed his back up against the cold wall. And then he heard it.

It started with a bunch of screaming and cheers coming from the other inmates. Michael's curiosity sparked higher as a loud thud rang through the cells. He scrambled off the bed and started running toward the door when he saw the baton tapping against the window.

“Michael Jones, you have a visitor,” whoever was holding it spoke. Michael's eyes widened slightly as the voice sounded a little familiar to him. It certainly didn't sound like the guard who had brought him back to his cell.

The chances of it being who he believed it was were slim. What was the harm in trying, though? “Ray?” He called quietly, though he supposed he needed to be louder since everyone else was still clapping loudly. His breath hitched in his throat as Ray's face came into his view. The younger lad was wearing the standard guard uniform and Michael was left baffled for a few seconds until it all clicked together for him. He listened to the sounds of keys jingling and stepped back as Ray pushed door opened. He understood what was going on, yet he stood there with his mouth hanging open.

“We don't have much time, _pretty boy_. Let's go,” Ray spat that demand out as he turned away to walk off. Michael's eyebrows twitched at the attitude he had received, but he also hadn't expected any better, so he hurried out of the cramped cell and followed his old friend down the row of cells where other inmates screamed profanities at them while a few others were merely begging to be freed as well. Ray jumped over the guard now lying on the floor and Michael took a moment to examine the man from above. He looked out cold and Michael was impressed that this was something Ray had done.

Not wanting to waste a second more, Michael stepped over the guard and ran to catch up with Ray.

“Where'd you get that outfit?”

“Questions later, Jones,” Ray grumbled. Michael scoffed.

“Ray, seriously.”

“Michael, _seriously_ ,” Ray responded through his gritted as he turned suddenly, causing Michael to halt in his tracks. Michael swallowed roughly, not used to seeing any sort of threatening look on Ray's face. He knew what Ray could be capable of, but it was just difficult to think about it when Ray acted like such a gentle person most of the time. This wasn't the same Ray he had lived with for a while. This was the Ray the Fake AH Crew had taken in as one of theirs.

“I'm... I'm sorry, y'know?”

“I don't care.”

“I am, though,” Michael urged, taking note of how they were walking again, but slower now, “I just want you to know that. I want you to know I never meant any harm by you. You... you were my friend-”

“Yeah, I _was_ ,” Ray snapped back. “But friends don't just take off with your dad's gun and leave them alone so that their dad can blame them for it being missing. Friends also don't take another friend, a _real_ friend, away from you.” _Gavin_.

Michael's heart leaped slightly at indirect mention of him. “Where is he, Ray? Is he alright?”

“Of course he's alright.”

“Well, is he here? Is he-”

“You talk _very_ loud, kid,” another voice spoke. Michael jumped and looked over to be face to face with the man in charge, the man he secretly envied more than anyone.

“Geoff,” he greeted blandly.

“Oh, it's 'Ramsey' to you,” Geoff sternly corrected him, narrowing his eyes. Michael merely scrunched up his nose in response. Geoff couldn't help resisting a smile then, a smug one at that. “You know, Gavin wasn't kidding when he said you were a cute one. How old are you anyway?”

“Where is Gavin?” Michael asked, completely allowing Geoff's question to go over his head.

“He's _fine._ We wouldn't be here right now rescuing your ass if he wasn't.”

“Yeah,” Ray spoke up and Michael looked back at him, “He's pretty good at convincing... _and_ I guess it's also kind of hard to say 'no' to his stupid face,” there was such fondness laced in the way Ray talked about him that caused a little guilt to bubble up in Michael.

“Can I just go see him?” He asked, glancing back and forth between the two. Ray squinted his eyes at him before turning his attention to Geoff. Geoff didn't seem to even be thinking about an answer or anything; he just looked so calm and collected in that expensive suit of his, like a true leader of one of Los Santos' most feared gangs. And then he took a step closer to Michael, grabbing him by the arm tightly that Michael hissed quietly at the fact that it honestly hurt.

“I did this for him. Not you. Just remember that,” Geoff whispered, low enough so that only Michael could hear. “I will never forget that it was you that took him from us.”

“It was his decision, too,” Michael argued. Geoff's expression warmed as he smiled, much friendlier than before, and somehow, that was more unsettling.

“Ray,” he called. Ray hummed. “Go get Ryan before the rest of the guards figure out what's going on. The assholes in there,” Geoff nodded toward the cells, “have finally shut the fuck up, but the guards on the other side of the building might still come to check why they were making so much noise in the first place.”

“On it,” Ray replied, scampering off. Geoff's smile remained trained on Michael and Michael was torn between returning it or looking as threatened as he _painfully_ could admit he was.

“They'll meet up with us out there,” Geoff told him, letting go of his arm as he turned away. Michael followed without another word. He didn't think there anything else for him to say anyway. He only hoped they weren't expecting him to be _thankful_ because they broke him out. This was all Gavin's doing, not theirs. They didn't care about him, so he wouldn't give them any thanks. They would have to kill him first which he was sure they wouldn't dare trying.

Geoff pushed open the door that led to the outside of the back of the building. Michael looked around their surroundings and shook his head. There was a certain feeling he got when he was in Los Santos and he was feeling that now – disgust. Geoff led him toward a van parked further back and Michael cursed him mentally for walking so fast. His ankles were still in a bit of a situation where walking too fast wouldn't do him any good. Geoff noticed that, though, since he stopped once he reached the van and folded his arms across his chest. He waited until Michael made it there before opening up the back doors.

Michael believed his heart was going to pop out with anticipation as the view from inside appeared and the first thing he saw was a lanky figure sitting up. Their eyes locked first as they stared at each other with a mixture of relief and amazement. He would have jumped onto the van and furiously crawled his way over, but with his ankles cuffed the way they were, he knew that would be a struggle. So he stood there as Gavin hurried to the edge and hopped off to meet with him at eye level.

Michael grinned slowly and Gavin practically jumped into Michael's arms. Michael brought a hand up and ran his fingers through Gavin's hair, something about that gesture calming his own self down. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of Gavin's face but continued holding him against himself as if he was afraid Gavin would disappear on him.

Geoff hardly realized how his lips quirked up at the sight of the two together. If it wasn't obvious before how much Gavin loved Michael – with how the Brit talked about him and was about close to throwing a tantrum as he begged all of them to help Michael escape – it was very obvious now. Just as it was obvious that Michael genuinely felt the same way.

“Ray and Ryan?” A voice Michael did not recognize had asked Geoff.

“Ray went to go get Ryan; they should be here soon. At least they better,” Geoff mumbled that last part. Michael pulled away from his embrace with Gavin to see the other person who had spoken. It was another man with a ginger beard and glasses who was inside the van.

“That's Jack,” Gavin answered Michael's unspoken question and the man – Jack – sighed.

“Thank you, Gavin.”

“No problem, Jack,” Gavin smirked.

As soon as Ray and Ryan were outside, Geoff ushered the couple back into the van. Gavin helped Michael get in as Ray patiently waited behind. Ryan, wearing that face paint that Michael was fascinated with how creepy it looked, joined Geoff up front and the second the back doors were shut, Geoff sped off. Michael had to quickly situate himself on the van's floor so he wouldn't end up falling over. Gavin instantly got comfortable next to him by resting his head on Michael's shoulder and interlocking their fingers.

“So, what now?” Ray asked the question each of them were silently wondering. Geoff glanced at them through the rear view mirror and shrugged.

“We sure as hell can't stay anywhere within the city for now. Won't take them long to figure out Michael's gone.”

Ray nodded and turned to look at Gavin and Michael. Michael was already staring back at him while Gavin's gaze was on their hands. Judging by the look on Michael's face, he and Ray were thinking the same thing.

Planning to break someone out of prison was one of the riskiest jobs any of them could ever think of doing. Succeeding at it was something they knew was just luck being on their good side and something they would forever be proud of. But what would happen to that person they broke out was something none of stopped to think about. Michael couldn't stay in the city, or even the state. In fact, staying in the country altogether wasn't the best idea.

He was a most wanted criminal in the state before with only a few other states knowing about him, but every state would for sure know his name after news of his escape spread. Nowhere was really safe for him and Ray found himself nervous at the thought. Michael was nervous, too – he was paler than normal. Ray knew full well that he wasn't particularly nervous over what could happen to himself, but of the specific person that wanted to join him wherever he ended up hiding.

Michael squeezed Gavin's hand and nudged him softly to get him to look up. When Gavin did, Ray looked over at Jack instead who was also purposely staring off at something else. Whatever Michael was going to say to Gavin was something Ray didn't want to see. He would hear it, of course, but he didn't want to see the looks on their faces.

“Gav,” Michael began, voice gentle as those green eyes seemed to sparkle at him. He licked his lips and took a deep breath. “Um, I... I don't want you to come with me.”

Oh, god. Ray shifted where he sat. Yeah, he didn't even want to hear this. Gavin blinked a few times as he processed what Michael had just told him.

“Wha-” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Look,” Michael lifted up Gavin's hand to hold it to his chest, “Things are tougher now – you know that. You know they're gonna be on my ass way more than they already were and I... I just don't want you getting in trouble. They don't even know who you are. They don't know that it was you that worked with me. You're free to stay here with your friends and actually _live_ your life the way you used to with them. You don't have to worry about getting caught with me and-”

“Michael, stop talking,” Gavin cut him off, yanking his hand away. “I can't believe what you're telling me.”

“Gav, I just-”

“Do you not want me around anymore?”

“Baby, _of course_ I do-”

“Then why are you telling me this?”

Michael opened his mouth to respond before closing it and slumping his shoulders in defeat as he pouted a little at his boyfriend. How did Gavin not understand this? He shook his head and tried again, “I'm not taking your life away again.”

“When have you before?” Gavin asked bitterly. Michael looked over to the front and for a second, he locked eyes with Geoff who was staring at them again through the mirror, but Geoff quickly broke the eye contact by looking forward at the road.

“I'm not worth it, okay? I'm not worth all the running you're gonna have to do,” Michael said to Gavin as he looked back at him. “I don't want you to go through that-”

“Why are you making decisions for me? My life isn't yours. I can do whatever I want with it and if that's being on the constant run, well, I'm fine with that. As long as I'm with you, I don't care.”

Michael chewed on his lower lip as he felt his eyes stinging. Gavin deserved so much better than this. So much better...

He averted his eyes for a moment before he heard Gavin gasp. He, along with everyone else, looked at Gavin questioningly. For someone who was growing angrier and angrier a minute earlier, Gavin sure appeared excited. He had an idea, Michael already knew. Gavin always got that kind of look when he had an idea.

“Geoff,” the Brit spoke, glancing up at his boss.

“Yeah, buddy?” Geoff asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Let's not leave the city yet.”

“What, are you serious? What about Michael's safety?” Geoff had to exchange a confused look with Ryan.

“Do you remember the time you promised I could use your private jet for a special occasion?” Gavin asked him, his grin widening. Michael's mouth slowly fell open.

“ _Gavin_...” he started, his voice a whisper, but he was stopped by Geoff answering Gavin.

“I think I know what you're planning, but I'm still going to ask; _what the fuck_ do you want with my private jet?”

Gavin was almost bouncing excitedly as he turned to Michael. “You don't want me running with you because you're afraid of me being caught, yeah?”

“Yeah, that's _exactly_ what I just told you,” Michael said.

“Right. Well, it wouldn't be so simple for us to be captured if we aren't even in the country.”

“Gav, I can't... I can't make you do that for me-”

“Michael, shut up.” Michael did, surprised by Gavin telling him so. Gavin, satisfied by that, cupped Michael's face as he leaned in to close more of the space lingering between them. “I'd go anywhere with you. _And_ I haven't been to Italy since I was about five. It would be nice to go back,” he waggled his eyebrows. “I could introduce you to my grandfather I learned those remedies from.”

“Italy? _Seriously_?” Ray asked, though he hadn't meant to intrude. It sort of slipped out. Everyone's attention turn to him. Ray swallowed hard and waved them off. “Whatever,” he mumbled.

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Geoff groaned as he pulled over, ignoring the looks he got from Jack and Ryan. He parked the van and turned in his seat to face Gavin better. “So, you _really_ want to go through with this? You want to stay with him? And you wanna leave the _fucking_ country? I can agree with that being smartest thing to do at this point, but... you don't have to go. It's a _big_ change.”

“I'll be okay, Geoff,” Gavin promised him. “You can visit us anytime you all get a chance. I won't forget about any of you, if that's what you're worried of.”

“You almost did last time,” Geoff spoke quieter. Ray's brows twitched together at that.

“Not even close, Geoffrey!” Gavin said. “How could I? You're family to me and I owe you _so_ much.” Gavin smiled as he met Michael's eye once more. “I'm just in love and I don't want what I have to end. I'm happy. I'm not saying I wasn't happy with the Fake AH Crew, because the time I spent with you lads have been the best, but...” he gently rubbed his thumbs on Michael's cheeks, “this is a different kind of feeling that I really like.” Michael returned the smile then and pushed back any guilt he'd been having, because maybe everything would be okay. Maybe going to Italy was the greatest idea and he could already imagine all of the things they would do there together, without a care in the world.

“ _Don't you think you could have just settled down somewhere with Bonnie? You two could have had a_ good _and_ real _life? Not one where you have to be on the run all the time. You two could have been happy-”_ Well, now they would be able to settle down. Now they would be _happier._

“I love you,” he mouthed to Gavin.

“Well, then,” Geoff sighed loudly. “Let's make sure you two have everything you'll need before leaving.” He glanced over at Ray, “Ray, get those damn cuffs off his ankles.”

 

* * *

 

“Michael Jones, twenty-five year old from New Jersey, has recently escaped fromBolingbroke Penitentiary in Los Santos-”

“I'm sure everyone by now has heard the story of the boy who ran away from home at _seventeen_ to begin his new life as a criminal-”

“-it is believed that he _did_ have help in his escape-”

“He had a partner before his arrest and there is no doubt that is who broke him out of prison and who he is currently hiding out with now. But where? That is what everyone is fearing-”

“How _did_ a _twenty-five_ year old manage to go through with all of the crimes he committed and _who_ _is_ his mystery partner?”

“It looks here that we have a case of a modern day Bonnie and Clyde.”

* * *

 

Gavin spread his arms out before falling backward into the water and Michael turned his head just as the splash hit him. Gavin emerged from under the water and laughed at the scowl on Michael's face.

“Aw, _Michael_. Don't give me that look,” he teased. “I know you're having the time of your life.”

“I _am_ ,” Michael responded, a smile slowly appearing. “That doesn't mean you don't annoy me sometimes.” Gavin let out some sort of squawk and Michael was the one laughing next.

It was a prestigious villa painted a soft pink near the Tuscan coast that Michael and Gavin found themselves living in. With a garden that surrounded its property, pool out back, it was a beautiful sight from the moment they first lied their eyes upon it.

And every morning when Michael woke up, he couldn't believe he was there. It wasn't in a bad way, no... he was absolutely awestruck with where he lived and who he lived with. This was his actual home, not just a place he was staying for a week. In a way, it could be considered a hide out, but he dared not see it in such a way.

This was _home_. Nothing else.

That night he and Gavin left, Geoff checked over to make sure they had everything probably more than thirty times until Michael had to assure him they would be fine. He also did what he didn't think he'd ever do – he thanked Geoff, for everything. And Geoff smiled at him, an honest smile that wasn't threatening or cold. Before getting into the jet, Michael turned back to him and told him he hoped to see him and everyone else soon.

Geoff told him they would certainly be visiting them as soon as the stories died down. And that was probably why both Michael and Gavin made sure they found a place that could comfortably fit other people. Three bedrooms, four bathrooms. It was what they considered perfect.

There were a few rare nights, however, where Michael couldn't sleep and would walk out to the backyard to sit by the pool. He would think about how his life used to be, back in Jersey. He would think about his mom and his dad, and even his brother. And he would realize how he didn't miss it. Sure things were easier, in a way, back then when he wasn't a wanted man in the country he was born and grew up in, but... he liked his life.

There were complications, too many to count, yet he could say he was happy without thinking twice about it. And he could say he was in love with the biggest smile on his face.

Maybe one day everything would be taken from him, in the blink of an eye, or maybe not. Either way, he chose not to live in the past or in the future.

So, on those rare nights, after he was done thinking about everything, he would get up and go back inside. Gavin was always too deep in his sleep to feel anything and Michael took advantage of that by jumping onto the bed and cuddling up next to him.

He wasn't like Jason. He would never be like Jason.

And he and Gavin? They weren't even _close_ to being like Bonnie and Clyde. They were their own kind – Team Nice Dynamite – and he loved it.

 

 


End file.
